1: Dovedale

"Then…" the wizard thinks a moment.

"Perhaps we ought to enter the camp and issue the challenge? It would give us the chance to get the lay of the land…" he says, eyebrow raised.

Aye, Odilo, I feel you're on to something. A direct challenge will be treated with mirth by these goblins.

I don't fancy a full frontal assault, but if it must be done, I won't find an excuse to take sides with the Goblin rabble.

It's not who you fight, it's what you fight for. To be clear, the Goblins are in the wrong and will not relent. The Leader Gravel Ass has made it clear he wants to destroy these magical creatures and cares not for the community below him.

We are certainly missing pieces of this puzzle, but I've heard enough to know that it would come to this either way. My patience is wearing thin. We were sent to take action and restore this river. That is what I intend to do. Am I the only one who finds it perfectly clear? We shall see...

"I don't think anything is perfectly clear, but we can't just sit and deliberate. That much is clear," Malard says. "We could certainly head in the direction of their dwellings, but it would probably be sensible to scout the area first before we just rush in, arrows flying and all that."

"Grabbo, do you think you could turn us in the general direction?"

"There’s also the matter of our representation in this matter. This chief believes he is facing off against our two exiles and nothing more."

He wonders a moment!

"I wonder if that might be our greatest trick thus far! What if…"

He begins digging the tip of his staff into the mud, and drawing out some crude representation of the area.

"Jabrano and Oren, take the goblin and challenge the Chief to a friendly wager. A race to catch this talking fish, superstition be damned!

The rest of us wait nearby. If our brave exiles make it enough of a spectacle, perhaps the goblins may empty their den to watch their chief’s triumph.

The rest of us could sneak in and save the spirit, and be gone before they get back…"

Jabrano tries to keep her voice calm as she adresses the scruffy wizard's angry words: "I hold very sensible views on what is and isn't bad. Is Gravelbeak evil? Yeah, sure. Do his actions merit brutal execution? Hells no. You didn't talk to him and you didn't watch him in the eye. There's a certain innocence to him. He is not holding anybody or anything hostage. His reasoning is much simpler. He's a fisherman obsessed with a prize. He gets that his actions inconvenience the village and doesn't care. But he doesn't get that he is putting the village in danger. He is oddly childlike. Probably that druid's doing. I don't want to kill him if I don't have to. Not to mention that whomever succeeds him may be considerably worse.
"

She nods at Oren.Good to know. Well, if we're doing that, we're going to need a fishing rod and some bait. Actually, it may be better for you to challenge him. You speak Goblin, and you clearly have a better rapport with him. But, yeah, our first course of action should be scouting the place so the extraction team knows where to go. I was told their lair is in or near the big hill to the north-east. It supposedly has a secret entrance. And Grabbo already told us he can get in and out without being noticed.

She stands up and walks towards the object the chieftain dropped, and starts to examine it.

The object appears to be a fishing fly. But this is no ordinary fly, this is a fishing fly designed to attract even the most intelligent of fish! A razor-sharp hook of the finest steel is hidden beneath golden thread, gold-dust impregnated wax, eyes made of ruby chips, and the softest, most delicate golden feathers. A gentle rinse in the stream reveals its beauty, and even Salvel can't take its eyes off of it in Jabrano's hands.

Eyeing the almost hypnotised fish, she asks "What's up with the pair of you anyway? How did this... feud between you and Gravelbeak start?"
She then carefully puts it in her backpack [unles somebody objects].

"While I've known of the chief for so very long, he only recently learned of me. You see, he doesn't try speaking with many of the fish around here. He'd rather sit back and fish, and sometimes trade stories with the villagers who come here. I knew better than to let him know that a talking fish swam these waters. But maybe a month ago he discovered me by accident! And ever since then, he's been obsessed with catching me. I am the ultimate prize, in his eyes!"

I guess the Goblin leader need not pay for the consequences of his actions. He is just as much of a bandit as any. He is not the village dolt. He leads for a reason. Might for sure, but I assure you, he is no simpleton. I am not duped by this rogue of a Goblin.

If we must sneak in, then let's be about it. I'll not stand here and wait to deliberate morals with such ambiguity. Make a decision and let's be about it. I mentioned scouting the place, we have this one (nodding at the halfling) do we not. And you've decided to let this evil bastard live, so now you'll be having a good time fishing with him. While us others will take the risk you pale to undertake. As far as I am concerned, they should all leave or perish. They've already damaged the very nature of this place though you care not how many of nature's creatures have already perished. I've said my peace.

Trina looks about with uncertainty. It is clear that she is conflicted. Finally, she makes a decision. "The goblin king is in the wrong and must be stopped. I don't like the idea of slaughtering the tribe, or even just the king, but we've got to do something."

With a plan in mind and ready to be set in motion, the party once again begins traveling; this time, upriver is their destination. They take to the side of the river that Grabbo had said the lair was on (and also the same side Gravelbeak had appeared on), and hike just shy of three miles north. They find themselves at a fork in the rudimentary path. A junction heads east to a small shack near the wall of a ravine that had been building around the river. The path itself also continues on northwards. And to the west, on the far side of the river, stand three large stone columns. Grabbo points north, stating that it is the correct direction.

The further away from the farm they trek, the greater the sense of anticipation there is for Malard. Mercifully, guiding the donkey gives him something to do so he isn't too lost in thoughts about what the upcoming battle might be like.

"OK, North it is, Grabbo," Malard says. "From here, will it be a difficult journey, or is the path relatively easy to traverse?"

Having a pack animal makes all of this easier, and frees his hands. If he had to give it up, it could be replaced, but it would be a pain.

There is a bitter, angry pain in her voice when she replies to the druid's words. He seems to have hit a sore spot. "Yeah, real bandit leader he is. You can tell by how the entire village is terrified of him, and all the burnt out ruins of farms we saw on the way here, and the heads of villagers left on spikes. If he were even remotely acting like a bandit I'd already have killed him.

But you're right in that I should go with the rescue team while you and Oren keep him busy. Oren can make the challenge in the name of, uhm, sportsmanship, or tightening the bonds between their peoples, or whatever, and as a supposedly unbiased priest of nature, you are ideally placed to act as an impartial judge.
As for the nature of this place? That that was damaged probably beyond repair long ago, by one of your own order. We're doing damage control, trying to clean up the mess he left".

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Later, en route towards the goblin lair, as Grabbo is pointing the way.
"Hey, Grabbo, I was told by the priestess in the village that you guys live over there." she says as she points eastward, towards where Tor's Cloud Peak is visible on the horizon. "Was she just full of it, or did you guys move, or what?"

"No, no, no! Goblins not live that way, goblins live up this way," Grabbo says pointing north. "Big rock is dangerous, and only stupid humans crawl on top. Your priestess is wrong."

Me fish? I'm terribly sorry Jabrano but I don't take the lives of innocents and there is nothing more innocent than a fish minding its own business. I am a vegetarian after all and fishing for sport is a line I would rather not cross. I feel bad enough eating plants when they too have life but it is how I was raised. What say we just go to the goblin lair, demand the freedom of the river nymph, and let the true nature of the goblins be revealed? If they give her over then they are goodly, if not then they are wicked and I see no two ways about it. If you were taken hostage in the name of sport I would do the same for you."

Oh my…

Odilo keeps silent as they trek their way to the goblin hideout. He looked to the other magi, and the small Halfling, wondering if they were any more pragmatic than the other three.

Bleeding hearts and bloody righteousness… he thinks to himself.

Battling themselves to a stalemate while walking every closer to danger…

He catches Malard and Trina along the track, and speaks low to them.

"A time will come for action, not words or high minded philosophy." he cocks an eyebrow.

"Action." he repeats.

"Let us three remember why we are here. The river, and nothing else."